


My Friend Filthy

by 99BottlesOfBeerOnTheWall



Series: My Friend Filthy - The Collected Works [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Caleb is Sad ™, Campaign 2 (Critical Role), First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Gen, He really needs a hug, Night Terrors, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Canon, is there such a thing as Meet Angst instead of Meet Cute?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-07 02:36:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14661570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/99BottlesOfBeerOnTheWall/pseuds/99BottlesOfBeerOnTheWall
Summary: Nott is a goblin with no friends, and nowhere to go. Caleb is a human with no family, and no hope left. They don’t expect each other, but Caleb is empty, and Nott needs something to care for. So they work with the broken pieces.Together is better.





	1. Hello Nobody

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Professor_Snip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Professor_Snip/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *choo choo* welcome to the Pain Train! Please enjoy your Feels.

Nott didn’t really mind being in a jail cell.

Humans liked to be extravagant with their luxury, Nott had figured that out pretty quickly. They went overboard on everything. Some of it was actually kind of ingenious if Nott was being honest.

Their houses for one. Nott couldn’t figure out what was so nice about them. They were too tall, they had no sense of tasteful decor, and worst of all the humans put holes in their roof so the rain would get in. But after she got over the first disgust, she started to realize they had a good point too: namely that her eyes didn’t water and sting every time she was in a human dwelling. At first that puzzled her, before she realized that it was because of the stupid hole in the roof. Humans put them there to let out the smoke from the fire. No smoke, meant no watery eyes and coughing, during the winter. And Nott had to admit, though she never would have thought of it, the idea was a good one. Despite its apparent idiocy.

That wasn’t all though. Not only did humans put holes in their roof, they wanted dumb sacks full of shitty bird feathers to sleep on! Why on earth would want to keep a bird’s feathers. They always took forever to pick off, if you missed any they got stuck in your teeth, and if you didn’t bother with them they were so difficult to swallow it was almost worse than eating green stuff. Another example of human stupidity. Yet once again, when Nott actually got the chance to lie down on a Feather Sack, it was so comfortable to sleep on it was almost disgusting. Nott still refused the Feather Sack purely on principle, it wouldn’t do to soften herself up too much, or she’d end up wanting to sleep on the Feather Sack and nothing else.

And then of course there were the instances of human luxury that Nott couldn’t get enough of.

Because humans were pretty dumb, but they at least understood Shiny Stuff. Really, they had Trinkets everywhere. A display of wealth so decadent Nott almost didn’t have time to take it all in. They ate with shiny things, they drank out of shiny things, they had shiny things to look at themselves with, shiny things to open doors, shiny things to sew their clothes with, and still more shiny things to buy or sell all the other shiny stuff with. There was, quite simply, more than she could carry.

So she’d been forced to compromise a little. Because after some observation time among the big people, she started to realize that they were so loaded they had even developed a system for how valuable all their valuables actually were. They were such snobs they didn’t even care about the regular shiny things they had, and instead they all fought over the shiniest, most polished looking items. They were so spoiled they only wanted the Goald and Jewls that were supposedly the most shiny of all.

And because she couldn’t take all of it, she contained herself to acquiring the smaller prettier objects the humans enjoyed so much, since they were easier to carry. Though, if she were honest with herself, they were awfully shiny, and they were pretty nice...All that to say that humans could be stupidly soft sometimes...

Which was why Nott didn’t have the least issue with her cell.

Now if Nott had been in a _goblin_ prison that certainly would not be nice. Goblins would have done sensible things to their prisoners, like hanging them in an iron cage over a hot fire, or spreading broken glass over the ground so that you couldn’t lie down. Compared with sharp nails and chipped sword points, this prison was practically heaven.

Probably the humans had meant it as a punishment, but even their attempts at discipline fell woefully short. Because in Nott’s opinion there wasn’t anything much more snug and cozy than that prison. Why, it had all the essentials! The roof didn’t leak, they’d built the walls so that hardly any sunlight came in, keeping the cell cool and dark, there was a fancy pot to dispose of your waste in, you got a whole meal a day, and they’d even laid some nice smelling spongy straw down on the ground so that the floor was cushy and fragrant. They actually brought her food, so she didn’t even have to scavenge for herself anymore, and all she had to do was lounge around and sleep, or dig tunnels in the straw if she got really bored.

Nott couldn’t imagine what more a person could ask for.

She’d actually objected rather strongly to the one attempt the humans had made to drag her out again. Sure, she had things to do and she’d get out eventually, (the padlock on that cell was such a pitiful excuse for a lock she had no doubt it wouldn’t give her an ounce of trouble the moment she wanted to leave), but she wasn’t exactly ready to give up her vacation time yet.

They’d tried unsuccessfully to drag her out, but they were all so slow and stupid that it was easy to dodge their attempts, and bite their fingers until they dropped her, if they ever did manage to catch her. She worried their legs and ankles with her teeth the rest of the time (since she couldn’t reach any higher), and finally they’d given up and gone away to nurse their numerous wounds, leaving her snarling and drooling in her cell.

It had seemed like a nice victory at first, and they certainly didn’t try to engage the “mad dog” (as they lovingly called her) again. But immediately after the fight she’d heard them discussing “starving the retched thing,” and they’d stopped feeding her. It was a pity, because the food had been nicer than anything she’d ever had, when it wasn’t green, and she’d enjoyed the extra pampering. But she wasn’t exactly sure what they meant by starvation, since there was still clearly lots of food to eat. Any baldheaded foureyes with half a brain could see that the cozy straw and waste pot still had plenty of bits that were good for scavenging.

But if they were going to turn up their noses at it, she certainly wasn’t. It was all perfectly good food.

Finally her supply began to run out, and Nott was at last thinking that _maybe_ she should move on. It wouldn’t be any trouble, since the padlock was so abysmal, and they left her completely unsupervised for hours every day, not to mention how shortsighted they were even when they did try to keep an eye on her. The food seemed to be drying up at last, and she’d had plenty of downtime to relax and enjoy herself. She did have things to do after all, and she had said she would leave eventually.

Then, as if they actually wanted her to stay, they brought her something new to amuse her.

She’d been sleeping at the moment when they brought the new thing. Coming to her senses, face down and ass up in the straw, Nott realized that the big people had come to her cell and were making an awful racket with the padlock. Big people could be dreadfully noisy when they tried to unlock things, since they had no idea how to handle such things carefully. It was so deafening she couldn’t sleep anymore. But she was still feeling fuzzy and relaxed with the dregs of her nap, and she felt in no mood to get up and scold them for the carelessness, or repeat another playful tussle like the first one.

Instead she just watched them struggle with the lock. There were two of them at the moment, dressed from head to toe in lots and lots of shiny stuff (typical human extravagance) that twinkled in the half light of the dungeon, standing side by side outside the cell door...Well actually...now that Nott took a better look, there were two shiny humans and one black dumpy thing that they appeared to be hauling between them.

“Where’s the Rat?” One of the two humans (he sounded young and almost boyish) said, his voice apprehensive and sour.

“Really?! You’re such a whiny bitch sometimes, you know that.” The other growled, and this one sounded older, grizzled, hardened. “It isn’t even as big as a mad dog. Ain’t you ever wrestled a mad dog?”

“Man, I don’t wanna get my damn fingers chewed off again, once is enough.” The first complained. “That thing’s got pointy teeth. They fucking hurt!”

“Look: it’s nesting off in the corner. And if you can actually keep your trap shut we’ll be in and out before the blasted thing wakes up.”

“Well you seem to be taking your sweet time with that lock, so who’s really making a racket here?”

“It’s just rusty.” The older man snapped irritatedly. “I keep telling them to fix this junk.”

A few moments of silence ensued, broken once again by the younger guard.

“Whatd’ya think it’ll do with him?” The young human said, sounding nervous, apprehensive even, but with an underlying tinge of excitement and anticipation. The older man chucked, sounding amused instead of pissed off for the first time since Nott had started listening to their voices.

“Not our problem, whatever it does.”

“Do you really wanna put _him_ in here with that? We got a perfectly good empty cell right over there—“

“Don’t you get bored sitting guard all day? I’m just setting up a show for you. It’ll be fun,” the elder interrupted, pausing in his struggle with the padlock for half an instant as he spoke. Then he turned back to his task saying with a chuckle, “hell I’d trade places with you, just to watch the racket.”

“I mean, we could trade if you want—“

“Fuck off sonny. That was a figure of speech.”

Nott heard the lock finally spring, and silently wondered how it could possibly have taken even a complete idiot so long to achieve the deed. But after all, humans were stupid. They had yet to figure out that this jail cell wasn’t nearly as terrible as they thought it was.

“All right you Filth,” the older man growled, as he bent to retrieve his share of the dark lumpy something, his voice turning dark and venomous as he spoke to it. The tone was one Nott recognized as usually reserved for herself, the unfriendly harshness to it unmistakeable, though this time it was strangely not directed in her direction. “Time to dump ya.”

Hauling together, both shiny covered men dragged the dilapidated heap forward, just inside the open door of the cell. Nott was starting to put together that this haphazard ruin might actually be, in some form, another person. But if it was, they were so ragged, and so much one color of dirt and caked in refuse that their shape could hardly be distinguished. And Nott wasn’t willing to hazard a guess as to whether or not this was indeed a living being at all.

If it was alive, the guards treated it very roughly, throwing it into the cell so forcefully that it collided heavily with the back wall and slid down into the straw. But the thing tottered where it landed, as if some intent within the ruin was making an effort to stand straight, or collect it’s rags into any kind of order at all. The attempt was a poor one, but whether it would have succeeded or not would never be certain.

The older guard (his face was caught in the light as he did it and for that moment he looked very ugly indeed), drove the weight of his boot, vicious and intentional, down into the center of the wretched hump forcing it back onto the ground. And now the thing was clearly a living creature of some sort, because the heavy kick elicited a choked sound of pain, little more than a whimper, and they made no attempt to rise again.

“Stay down.” He snarled, (and Nott hadn’t known that a human could sound so much like a wild animal, but she was learning to hear it now).

Twice more he crushed a brutal kick into the heap of rags. They were less effective than the first, the creature appeared to have wisely taken measures to protect itself, but they impacted flesh enough.

“Hey, man that’s enough—“ the younger guard, who appeared more softhearted on the whole, tried to intervene.

His companion aggressively shoved the junior away, his hostility even raised against his friend for a moment, but the younger guard appeared to have done some good, for his senior chose not to attack again. Staggering silence fell over the jail cell, broken only by the elder man’s heavy breathing. Vilifying a fellow being took effort, and he was slightly winded after his vicious outburst.

“Fucking piece of shit…” the oldest person finally growled, as a summary of his thoughts. And he bent over to spit in the general direction of the curled up wreck, before turning away to leave the cell.

The younger human reluctantly followed, slinking after his friend, and together they locked the cell. With the jail once more secure, they both set off in the direction where free air and light lay. But the old man’s voice still came floating back through the stony echos, carrying a final sting in the tail of his words.

“You’re gonna die in here like you deserve Filth…” He said in a singsong, voice reverberating through the stones long after he’d completely disappeared.

As soon as they were gone, Nott sat up, the last of her nap time fuzziness completely dissolved. She currently had much more fascinating things to demand her attention, such as the new heap of grime and rags that was sharing her very cozy cell. She was burning with curiosity, but she was also still hanging back with newly acquired cautionary knowledge that humans, though stupid, could still be dangerously cruel. Which made her careful to silently approach this one.

For all her care the human was not extremely intimidating. He was in one word, Dirt. If it was indeed a He. The rags of his clothing, the rags of his hair, and the rags of his equally wasted looking face, were all alike in grubbiness. Which made it difficult to learn anything about him.

But with perseverance as she crept closer, she started, minimally, to distinguish unique features and differences in texture underneath the universal quality of dirt, and she was coming to the conclusion that it was indeed a human man. His hair might possibly be red if it wasn’t Dirt Brown, along with several days growth of unshaved stubble that might also be red underneath Dirt Brown, and his skin might even be called fair if you didn’t call it Dirt Brown.

It was at that moment the man suddenly moved, his shoulders heaving as he gave a sort of strangled gasp. The movement was so sudden, and the sound so unexpected, that it startled Nott badly. With a bounce nearly a foot into the air, she skittered back to the safety of the far end of the cell. Crouching in the shadows, teeth bared, she prepared herself to bite the fingers off anything that got too close. Especially this ragged looking man.

But the man didn’t attack.

He just sat there. And the more she listened the more she could make out his gasps, and the less she felt frightened of them still. He sounded more broken than intimidating, and Nott struggled to understand the sounds he was making. They were wet, hitching, choking kinds of sounds, that shook through his whole body every time one escaped from him.

And with that knowledge Nott suddenly came to the realization that her cell mate appeared to be suffocating.

Maybe his human fellows had injured him so badly he was going to die, and soon she would be the companion of a big person’s dead body. That was, Nott reflected, an extraordinary stroke of luck. He was a human after all, probably three times her size, so if he died she would have more meat than she could ever want. More in fact than she could realistically eat, before he went too bad for her to stomach him anymore. But he would definitely give her another week, or even two, of cozy cell life with no scavenging required.

It would be exactly what she’d been needing, as long as those meddling idiot humans didn’t come back and drag the body away. But she could always ward them off if they tried. It was, after all, not the first feeding fight she’d ever had. And that younger human at least seemed to be pleasantly frightened of her knife like teeth.

So Nott parked her butt in the straw to wait out the spasms, and conduct further post mortem examinations when they had passed.

But whether or not a great deal of time actually passed, Nott quickly grew bored and impatient. This man was taking a long time to choke, and Nott picked at the claws on her toes for a moment, before glancing up to look at him again. If he really took this long, he might figure out whatever he was choking on and swallow it so he wasn’t suffocating anymore. And then she wouldn’t have a dead body, and if she didn’t have a dead body she would have to leave her straw padded home a little sooner than expected, and if she did that it might rain, and she would get wet, and she hated being wet. If he were truly choking, it wasn’t like he could pose a great threat, even to her.

So would it really hurt to help him along?

Nott considered this for a moment, weighing her options. She knew that creatures could be dangerous when desperate, that was certainly true, and even a harmless one could do some damage if it were upset enough. But on the other hand, this one had been choking for nearly a minute. Surely he must be nearly dead by now, or at least dead enough to for her to finish him off with minimal risk to herself.

Having confirmed this fact, Nott cautiously left her safe corner once again, venturing out for further business. The man appeared to be preoccupied with his state of suffocation, and Nott managed to be supremely silent besides, so the curled up human paid no attention to her. In fact, she was on the top of her game. Usually she had to do more of a ‘foot pad’ motion, as opposed to walking on her toes, because her claws always clicked on hard surfaces, but the beautiful brown straw helped muffle the sound.

Human luxury, making her life infinitely easier, once again.

The human was curled up in such a tight ball when she reached him, she could hardly make out which end of him was which. And on this closer inspection she began to come to the conclusion that this human would not be able to provide her with as much meat as she had hoped. He was almost emaciated, the baggy emptiness of his too large clothes over a too narrow frame starkly highlighting the deficiency, skin too tight over not enough muscle, the hard curvature of bones clearly visible. It was a sharp disappointment, but after the first sting she comforted herself with the fact that she would still have the bone marrow, even if she didn’t get much else. The body would still be worth it.

But as it turned out, she was never to have the body, because she noticed something else before she could get that far.

The human had sparkly things. The half light of the dungeon caught it just right, as she bent over him: a sheen of Shiny that traced through the dirt on his cheek. She’d never seen a human wear Shiny on their face before, and she was intrigued. Before with sudden shock she realized that the human wasn’t wearing the Shiny. He was making it.

A droplet of shimmer fell into the straw beneath his head, accompanied by another broken choking sound, and the thing glittered for that half a moment like the purest diamond.

Without quite realizing what she was doing, Nott curiously reached out to touch the man’s face, and feel the shiny. But what she felt was nothing more than wet, a trace of dampness against her finger. And for that one moment she could feel how badly he was trembling, shaken by deep shudders that wracked his body; it pulled at something, and for the next half instant she wasn’t quite sure she did want to kill him.

The human started back as soon as she touched him, uttering a strangled sound of panic, as he bolted upright. Pressing his back against the wall, the human reflexively flung his hand out, hanging in the air between them. For half an instant it began to blacken, like his skin was turning to charcoal, and all the little hairs on the back of Nott’s neck prickled with danger. But the human let out a something that was almost a scream of pain, by far the loudest sound he had yet made, and captured the black hand against his stomach as if it were an independent creature he was struggling to control.

Nott instinctively crouched down in the straw, and for the next few seconds the two of them were caught in a tense standoff. But the silence stretched out longer and longer, and Nott began to loose her fear. In that moment’s silence Nott decided she liked the human’s face, and not just for the shiny on it. His face looked as fleshless as the rest of him, but when animated by strong emotion, at this present moment Fear, the expressions broke up a certain _something_ in his face that oppressed it. Slowly she uncoiled a bit, slinking a little closer, and the human pressed himself further back into the wall.

“Hi…” Nott rasped as cheerfully as she could, trying to hide how nervous she still was, by smiling as she spoke in a way that unconsciously showed most of her very jagged teeth. “W-what’s your name? heh—heh—“

The human only stared at her mutely, shoulders shuddering with tiny rapid gasps. Nott took it as an invitation to slink a little closer still. Until she was crouched right at the edge of the human’s knees, her eyes fixed on his face, as she continued to smile in her friendliest way. The human didn’t seem to find her toothy leer very comforting.

“My—My name’s Nott,” she confided, because no answer seemed very forthcoming. “…Nott the Brave. Heh-he…”

Still no answer. At this close proximity Nott could see the sheen across his face again, made more visible because his skin was clean and pale underneath it, and she still felt the draw to understand what it was. Half unconsciously she pawed at the human’s knees, as she pulled herself upwards to get close to him, and leaning far forwards she reached out to touch his cheek again. He whimpered as she did it, but appeared too frozen to resist. All she felt was more wetness, as she touched him, her claw rasping lightly against his cheek. Just wet trails of moisture down his face, warmed by his skin, and almost silky.

It felt nice, soft, sort of tender.

“Oooooo—“ Nott hummed, reaching out to do it again. She liked petting him.

But the human finally seemed to be regaining some control of his body, and he flinched away from her prodding finger. Not so easily diverted, Nott prepared to pet him again, but was quickly distracted by the human’s next few movements. Shakily gathering himself, the human lifted his hand out of his lap, opening his hand to show a bead of light resting in the center of his palm. It was not very large, but extraordinarily pure, a tiny globe of golden light that lit both of their faces from underneath.

“Aaaaah!” Nott’s eyes grew wide, her mouth falling slack as the beautiful light appeared, immediately enchanted by its glow.

The strong light from underneath threw all the human’s face in shadow, highlighting every sharp point and prominent bone, so that his face was turned into a ghastly hollow ghost of itself. It had rather the same effect on Nott, if she could have known it, making her face seem much wider and uglier, and turning her mouth into one huge gaping shadow that would give anyone nightmares. But she hardly noticed the human’s face, and certainly not her own, so entranced by the light was she.

Shakily she reached out to grip her much smaller hands around the human’s fingers, gripping into his thumb and middle finger so that she could hold him still, and gaze uninterrupted down at the light. Without realizing it she kept drawing his hand closer and closer to her, until the light was directly under her nose, and she was very close to tasting it. Then without warning the light suddenly moved.

It drifted majestically out of the human’s palm, hovering before her face, and continuing to rise. Nott’s eyes were magnetically drawn after it, gazing steadfastly as it hovered a foot above her face. Prompted by greed, Nott shot her hand out, trying to snatch the light as it floated above her. But it danced out of reach the moment she tried, and came back down to the same tantalizing hight it had rested at before. The next attempt Nott made with both hands, even jumping a little to give herself extra hight, but the globe still evaded her.

As soon as she was no longer touching him, the human relaxed, and he twitched his fingers like someone tugging on puppet strings. The light immediately responded, dancing away across the dungeon toward the far end of the cell. Nott, so focused on the light that she was blind to everything else and tripping over her own feet, stumbled after it.

She never got tired of snatching for it, always convinced that this next attempt would be the successful one, though it never was. The light never stopped flickering away, sometimes disappearing from her grip even as her hands closed over it, and reappearing out of reach where it had been before.

And for those moments Nott was too focused to realize how much the playful mood humanized her, how small and unthreatening she appeared. If she had, she might have stopped, because what Goblin was ever called Adorable instead of Fearsom? In the same way the human was too focused to realize that the game made him smile once or twice, that he could still feel something other than frozen melancholy. If he had, he wouldn’t have accepted it, because laughter wasn’t something he deserved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was inspired by Caleb’s resent backstory reveal (of course), but also by the song Shadowplay from Cirque du Soliel Ká. 
> 
> So if you want more of a feel for the atmosphere for this fic, and Nott and Caleb’s relationship, I’ll leave a link. I would definitely recommend checking it out. https://youtu.be/Zvt78jCsxSk


	2. Don’t Care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Person with patience, (you know who you are), who waited so long for chapter 2. I’m sorry I took so long.

When Nott woke up, it was several hours later, after she’d chased the fairy light until she fell asleep. The light in the cell was different, indicating that several hours had passed. The sound that woke her was a rasping scrape of metal against metal, as one of the humans pushed a tin plate through the bars of the cell and walked off. Even from this distance, Nott could smell the food on it.

Clearly the food was meant for her human companion, pushed into the cell a few feet from him. Not to mention the fact that the other humans had decided to starve her. That didn’t change the fact that the nice smell was making her salivate, drooling into the straw, eyes greedily fixed on the plate that was out of her reach. It was too close to the human for her to even think about stealing it, he’d only use those long human arms of his and take it away from her. If humans were blessed in any way, they were certainly blessed with their size.

But the human didn’t seem to be interested in the food at all.

The animation of fear, and then occupation keeping her distracted, had long since faded out of her companion. He too had slumped over in the straw, lying perfectly still on the ground, face shaded by the unkempt ragged mess of hair that grew Reddish Dirt Brown on his head. And the sound of the plate didn’t wake him. For an achingly long stretch of time he made no move to feed himself, and Nott’s stomach was only clenching up tighter the longer she waited. Didn’t he want it?

Well if he didn’t feel like eating, Nott could certainly take care of it for him.

Still half afraid of the human, despite his apparent stillness, Nott crept up to the plate of food, still keeping her eyes fixed on him. He was going to wake up any second, and then he would definitely chase her away, and Nott briefly wondered how many fingers she could chew on before he inevitably won the food fight. But even now, he didn’t stir. The stillness was making her paranoid, itching to flee back into her safe corner.

Then a delectable smell came up to her from the plate, and she looked down.

She forgot the human as soon as she did. The portion was much larger than anything they had fed her, as if they had taken her cell mate’s greater size into account, and Nott took a moment to praise her luck. It was a plate full of gruel, probably enough to feed her for two days, and they’d provided a tin mug full of water too. With a tiny squeal of excitement she couldn’t quite contain, Nott snatched the food, and scampered back to her side of the cell.

Safely sheltered on her side of the prison, Nott looked back to gauge the man’s reaction. Maybe he would get angry at her now? If he did, Nott resolved to scarf as much of the meal down before he reached her to take it back. Even a few mouthfuls would be more than she’d been treated with in a while.

She needn’t have worried. The human was as disinterested as ever, still in the exact same position on the straw. It was a stroke of luck she could hardly believe: not only were they feeding the human more than they’d ever given her, he didn’t even want it, so she got a double portion by proxy. She’d never seen any human behave so unselfishly.

Settling down in the straw, Nott set about enjoying her feast. Since the human didn’t seem to care for it, and it would be foolish to let it go to waste, naturally it belonged to her. The gruel was delicious. Bland, tastefully tasteless, and allowing you to enjoy its spartan simplicity. The water was a good bonus too.

Her companion was as still as ever, while she ate, and because he was the only new object to present itself for her entertainment, Nott observed him. The human still hadn’t told her his name, and Nott felt the strange need to have one. They were cell mates after all, and she’d given him her name, so it was only polite to give him a name as well. But she had no real leads as to what his name should be.

The one older human had called him _piece of shit_ , and for a moment Nott considered the fairness of this title. But eventually she decided against it. He didn’t in the slightest look, or smell, at all like a piece of shit, and Nott preferred the goblin custom of giving people practical and applicable titles. Naming someone after a thing they clearly weren’t at all like, was just more typical human nonsense. The second epithet seemed much more fitting, in Nott’s opinion. The humans had called her cell mate _Filth_ , and Nott felt it to be a much better description.

He certainly was filthy after all. She’d never seen a human so sensibly adorned in fact. None of the fastidious phobia of dirt, none of the vain chattering about clothes that weren’t even a part of you, this human did things the proper way. Covering his natural smell with that of his surroundings, wearing clothes that were comfortable and fitted to his frame. It all made perfect sense to Nott. So she decided giving him a nice name wouldn’t be too much of a complement for him, a name that most goblins would be jealous of, and wish to have.

Filth was a lovely name.

This decision made, Nott continued to eat and gloat at her own generosity. Really, she hoped he realized how friendly she was being, allowing him to have such a nice name. It was strange, but as Nott looked at him catatonic on the straw, it surprised her to find that the name almost made her a little fond of him. Having something to call him, made his presence more personal.

Not that Filth knew, or seemed to care.

Another problem was quickly becoming distracting. Nott couldn’t finish the gruel. For a moment she considered stashing the leftovers away, but that only made her realize that the plate would be missed. They might come looking for it, or even stop dispensing out more food until the plate was returned, and both those options were repugnant. One: because Nott liked having the food, and Two: because Nott was gaining a possessive fondness of this cell and didn’t want any intruders.

Finally she settled on digging a little hole in the straw, and dumping the leftovers into it. She drank the rest of the water, because it couldn’t be stored anywhere else, and returned all her utensils back to the edge of the cell. She even treaded carefully, in an attempt to leave Filth undisturbed. But he took no notice.

And for the rest of the day, he was just as oblivious.

She had never seen a human be able to sit so still, as if he were trying to be a vegetable, instead of a living person. It was extremely startling every time he moved, which he only did twice throughout the day. He moved once to curl up more tightly behind his legs, making Nott (who was digging around in the straw for tidbits) squeak and freeze in her movements until he stilled once more. Hours later he rose briefly to piss, which startled Nott so badly she flopped down to hide her face in the straw, as if he would ignore her just because she couldn’t see him.

But after that brief, and quite novel bit of movement, he stilled again. And for the next several hours, all Nott had to do was amuse herself making braids out of limp dirty straw, and watching the human as he huddled in the corner. Darkness fell at a slow dreary crawl, until Filth was little more than a dull lumpy shadow.

 

***

 

Filth had a nightmare.

Nott was cozily sleeping, perfectly contented with her beautiful cell, a full belly, and promise of more at daybreak. But Filth wasn’t breathing right. And Nott didn’t know much, but she was to her core intensely paranoid, and the slight change was quite enough to wake her.

Sitting bolt upright in the darkness, Nott listened. What had awoken her was a faint sound that she just caught as she came awake, and wasn’t quite sure of. It took several seconds to hear it again, but when it came it was unmistakably Filth.

A soft hitching whimper, that sounded half like pain, and half like fear, hanging still on the dungeon air.

Nott was instantly poised for danger, paranoid and searching for the source of Filth’s fear. But nothing stirred, the jail was perfectly silent, and looked apparently empty. The only thing that broke the midnight calm was another broken whine. It was a mystery that Nott couldn’t make out, and she sat puzzled in the darkness, trying to understand.

She couldn’t do nothing forever, and slowly she began to be sure that there was no real danger. Filth must simply be mistaken. Maybe he was afraid of the dark? But if that were true, he could just make another beautiful light and it wouldn’t be dark anymore. Feeling curious, and mostly reassured, Nott picked herself up to go investigate and discover what was wrong with the human.

The cell was perfectly empty, and Filth was completely unharmed. There was absolutely nothing wrong with him. Nott could see that well enough, even at a distance, and when she got close she was quite sure of it. Whatever was wrong with him, wasn’t something she could see.

It was a danger of his own mind, that tormented him behind closed eyes.

He was tensely cuddled up again, and shivering in his sleep even though the cell wasn’t cold, his breath coming as little gasps that jolted out of him. Then he jerked hard in his sleep, writhing against the ground, and another hitching groan leeched out of him. Whatever mental force he struggled with, was growing more oppressive, and his sleep and breathing were both becoming more labored. Nott watched it all, morbidly curious, as she observed on the sidelines while Filth unraveled.

A high pitched drawn whine clawed at the back of his throat, suddenly shattering into a choked scream as he jarringly came back to himself. He bolted upright with a gasp that shook his whole body, and Nott scrabbled backwards, startled once again by his sudden movements. For a moment they were both perfectly still, Filth’s unsteady labored breathing, and Nott’s nervous heartbeat, the only things that broke the stillness to her ears. Filth was leaning back against the cell wall, head back as he gazed up at the ceiling, and struggled to calm his breathing. Nott was crouched wary and small in the straw, coiled like a frightened animal, scared to stay but even more reluctant to go.

The moment of tense fear seemed to be passing, Filth was clearly coming back to an awareness of his surroundings, and the distraught tension of his breathing was fading. For a moment Nott wondered if that might be all. Then Filth reached up to dig a hand under the edge of his collar, pulling at something rested against his chest, and shakily clutching it under his robe. And as if that were the final straw that made some heavy weight unbearable, that movement unraveled him. He sobbed violently, one hand still clinging to the thing around his neck, and he bent forward to shelter his face in his knees.

Nott thought he must be making his face wet again, though it was dark, and the trails of moisture didn’t catch the light. But she was fascinated anyway. She felt in a way, a little bit sad for him. Filth seemed to be a particularly tender human, suffering from pains that weren’t physical, and Nott sort of wished that he didn’t have to hurt.

His broken sobs made her stomach twist, like the unpleasant stab of something rotten her gut was struggling to settle, and she found herself desperately wracking her brains for a way to make him stop. She didn’t like seeing him cry, which made everything more confusing, because any proper goblin would have enjoyed watching this. All she knew was that she wanted to pet him again, and not exactly because she wanted to feel the wet shine on his face, but because that seemed like the proper thing to do at that moment.

She didn’t risk it though.

This human was clearly desperate, clearly hurting. And whenever Nott had tried to touch an animal that was desperate and hurting, all it did was lash out, so she kept her distance. Wanting to do something, but not quite sure what that something even was.

***

Filth was slumped back across the straw when Nott woke up again at sunrise. Just as if nothing at all had happened to him. Nott didn’t quite know what to do with him, so she stubbornly left him alone, vaguely hoping that Filth would mend himself and perk back up again.

Half of her sort of hoped that the prospect of food would cheer him up. Nine times out of Ten, when Nott was upset, it turned out that she was ravenously hungry and food cheered her up again. But he didn’t appear at all interested in the food when it was pushed into the cell, and Nott’s heart sank. Which was stupid, because that meant more for her. After all, he didn’t want the meal, and Nott was happy to take care of the victuals for him.

Skipping forward as soon as they were unattended, Nott snatched up the food, eager to see what her prize would be today. The plate contained a chunk of bread (which was quite overwhelming to Nott’s eyes, though most humans would have found it poor sustenance), and more water. Nearly dancing with excitement, Nott snatched the bread from the plate, and was about to return with it when she was arrested by the sight of Filth. It had been his food after all, and for a moment Nott hesitated to take it. The strange human was so thin, he probably needed the food, and Nott certainly could understand how it felt to be hungry, which he surely was.

The moment passed, and she carried her prize away to devour, but she couldn’t quite shake away the impulse. It in fact pushed her to eat less than she truly wanted, something heavy and tight in her stomach nagging at her quietly. She stubbornly pushed the impulse away, and hoarded the rest of her bread in the makeshift pool of gruel she was still treasuring.

But an uncomfortable tug of interest kept pulling her eyes back in Filth’s direction, so that she found herself trying to examine him from a distance. He was even more listless today, never moving at all, and for some reason it made Nott uncomfortable. Almost nervous. But it wasn’t the flutter of nerves she was used to, the twinge of fear for herself, spooking at shadows and imagining danger around every corner. It was almost like the fears she felt for her shiny collection, the way she was constantly afraid of someone stealing it, of having her treasures damaged. It was dreadfully confusing, since Filth clearly wasn’t a shiny.

In the end Nott allowed herself to partially give in to whatever impulse was nagging at her, operating on the theory that if she satisfied her instinct, it would go away. Half sheepish, and a little nervous, Nott sidled up to stand in front of the human’s face. Bending over, she could just see under the tousled fringe of hair, where Filth’s eyes (the only truly clean and bright part of his body) glittered dimly. He looked disinterested, almost trancelike, lying in a lethargy and staring at nothing in particular.

“He-Hey there…” Nott clumsily hazarded. She didn’t even have any idea what to say to him. What did you say to a human? Even fellow goblins frightened Nott, when she tried to talk to them, so she had always been too terrified to ever try talking to a big person. The lack of experience certainly wasn’t helpful now. “I uh—I ate your food here, I uh—I hope you don’t mind?”

Why on earth should she care what he thought about it? Nott cursed her own clumsiness, at a loss for how to go on. And Filth, sitting frozen and totally silent, certainly wasn’t helping.

“Maybe you just weren’t hungry…He-he-“ Nott said with a nervous laugh.

By this time Filth was clearly too listless to feel fear anymore. Or if he was still afraid of her, he had no energy to outright panic. That was sort of nice, but it wasn’t like he was paying her much attention either. Or at least that’s what Nott thought, until she saw Filth suddenly sigh. It was more movement than sound, the bits of straw stirred slightly by the outrush of breath. Then Filth groaned, and laboriously turned over to face the wall, explicitly turning his back on her.

For a moment Nott didn’t know what to do. Before she suddenly realized with a shock that she was angry. Here she was being so friendly to him, and he just shoved her away like he wanted to be alone. Didn’t he know how nice she was being?! What a mean old human Filth was!

Well fine, if he wanted to starve himself, he could go right ahead. That just meant more for her. She’d eat up all his food, and she wouldn’t care. She’d wait for him to die, and then she’d eat him up too. She didn’t care. He could waste away to nothing, and she’d just laugh, because humans were so stupid. And she _didn’t_ care. If he couldn’t even feed himself, then he deserved to die!

Filth could starve if he wanted....She didn’t care....    


	3. Definitely Not Fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another update pops out of the oven! This fic is basically my baby, so pls just love him.

Nott still wasn’t finished being angry with Filth.

But that night he woke up screaming.

The sound ripped her from sleep straight into the shredded grip of panic, letting out a frightened yelp of her own, as she went from lounging in the straw to huddling in the corner. Teeth bared, body coiled, Nott’s panicked eyes searched the cell, seeking out the danger. But it was empty of everything save Filth, who was curled up behind his knees shivering as he wept.

She was still angry at him, she stubbornly told herself again and again. He seemed all right though, the moment was over, he was fine. He’d had his nightmare, and now they would go back to sleep until morning. And for a moment that comforted Nott before she realized she was trying not to care. She shouldn’t care. Lifting her chin, she turned her back on him, and settled back down in the straw.

He was fine. He could take care of himself. And for a moment Nott congratulated herself with this fact. But it didn’t take long for it to become clear, Filth wasn’t doing well at all.

He fell asleep a second time, only to wake up screaming again. And again Nott struggled to ignore it. He was fine.

He fell asleep a third time, only to come back to himself in a fit of fear and agony. Nott couldn’t sleep anymore.

A fourth time, a fifth time.  
It was a cycle that didn’t stop. Like clockwork Nott could tell when it started, and every step was always the same. He would struggle violently to stay awake, only for exhaustion to claim him. He would sleep peacefully, then peace would turn to fear, fear would turn to pain, and pain would turn to torture. Nott could predict it with absolute certainty.

Every time Filth closed his eyes he woke up screaming.

By the time Nott realized she was never going to sleep at this rate, her anger was boiling over. When Filth’s sleeping whimpers started again, she suddenly snapped, and before she knew what she was doing she’d thrown her flask across the cell in his direction. Her flask was empty of course, she’d drained the booze long ago, but it clanged loudly against the cell wall. With a panicked gasp, Filth started awake. Silence held the cell as Nott waited for him to punish her. But he didn’t seem to realize that she’d woken him.

It was the start of something better.

Filth quickly dropped back into an exhausted stupor, and soon after that the haunting pains came back again. But Nott was starting to realize that she wasn’t completely powerless. In fact, she was the only one who could help. She couldn’t stop the nightmares, but she’d realized she could interrupt them.

Nott tested her theory, watching for the next time Filth sank into a nightmare. And before he could loose himself, she retrieved her flask and clanged it against the wall again. The sharp sound woke him, and it wasn’t much, but Nott figured it would help. If he couldn’t keep himself awake, she would help him wake up before the dreams grew too bad.

And she didn’t notice when she’d decided to forgive him, but she wasn’t angry now. For Nott finally was beginning to realize her power. Nott had felt pain, she couldn’t ignore it. She knew what it felt like to be the victim screaming. So she did what she could.

The mental tide was like a clock, she could see when it was on the turn.

Filth would get stiff in his sleep. First stiff, and then shivers, little sobs and whimpers, little gasps and cries. And every time the dream turned sour, Nott made a loud noise. It was entirely against her silence loving nature, but the startling sounds were enough to wake him, bringing him back to the surface before the jagged crescendo.

It wasn’t much, but it was what she had, and she did her best to attend him all night.

***

Nott had said she would let Filth starve. But the combination of her nighttime activities, and then dawning morning light disproved that little assertion.

The familiar scrape of food being pushed into the cell awoke Nott sharply, but the sound didn’t trigger the same sense of excitement she’d felt before. Sitting up in the straw, she carefully studied Filth, waiting for him to move. The heat of her eyes burning into his forehead, should have set his hair on fire, but for all the attention he paid his surroundings he might as well have been a statue.

Stupid Filth, didn’t he notice the food!

She waited, and waited, and waited. But he did nothing about it, and at last Nott decided to do something. Instead of being quiet, she scraped her feet as loudly as possible in the straw, moving with flagrant carelessness. Instead of quietly snatching the food and skittering away, she paused over it, gave a loud exclamation of joy, and bent to retrieve it theatrically. In the same spirit of dramatic taunting, she grabbed the edge of the plate and noisily dragged it across the floor towards her side of the cell.

But Filth didn’t get jealous.

He just sat there, and she dragged the tin plate all the way to the other end of the cell, without so much as a twitch of reaction from Filth. It was frustrating. Because Nott was hungry, and it was first come first serve; but she still couldn’t bring herself to eat when it was clearly Filth that needed to, and she couldn’t bring herself to steal his food even though he didn’t want it. What on earth was wrong with him! Didn’t he want to live?! Because he was going to kill himself at this rate!

Filth wasn’t the only one behaving like an idiot though. Because instead of eating the food, like she knew she should, Nott found herself _giving it back_. Slowly, reluctantly, she dragged the plate back to Filth. For a moment she thought that might be enough to content her, but without quite knowing what she was trying to accomplish, she found herself pushing the food even closer to Filth’s face than it had been. He could reach out and crush her with one hand right now, but Nott still found herself risking it.

Was it Filth that was being stupid, or was it Nott herself? Because she was clearly behaving like a fool.

There was only so far Nott could push her paranoia though, before nerves got the better of her, and she found herself stopping farther off than she wanted to be. No power would force her limbs to move closer however, when faced with Filth’s overwhelming size, and the memory of how suddenly he could move. He was difficult to predict, and Nott’s body wasn’t willing to risk it.

So she pushed the plate as close as she dared. Putting it directly in front of his face, in an explicit hint that nobody could miss, she silently backed away. That would do the trick surely. Even Filth wouldn’t be able to resist.

But Filth quite simply wouldn’t eat, no matter how much Nott wanted him to.

The plate was left untouched, the cup of water untasted, and Filth never moved at all. Nott might have thought he was dead, if she hadn’t been able to see his shoulders still rising and falling in a shallow rhythm. He didn’t even get up to pee anymore.

And that wasn’t the only annoyance either. One of the humans came poking around.

His low whistle came floating down the stone passageways first, the sound warning Nott of the danger. As soon as it filtered into Nott’s brain, she flopped down in the straw, curling up and pretending to be asleep. Maybe he would think she was dead, or forget that she was there. Or maybe he wasn’t even interested in their cell at all.

But the heavy sound of human boots did stop outside the cell, and Nott peeked through the sheltering screen of her hair to see that it was the old grizzled human again. The sight of him nearly made Nott hiss with venom. She really didn’t like this human, he was mean, and angry. He’d kicked Filth, and Nott liked Filth.

For a long moment everything was dangerously silent. Then the old human viciously kicked the cell bars, filling the prison with a startling clang that nearly made Nott jump out of her skin. With a tiny little yelp of fear, Nott curled up smaller. Why did humans all have to be so noisy!

“How are we then?” The old man growled, his voice dangerously friendly. “I hope you missed me? Maybe you’ve been looking forward to the day I’d come back?”

Filth didn’t answer. He was so still, Nott had to wonder if her cell mate even knew that the unfriendly human was there.

“See I’ve been busy, but I said to myself, ‘I definitely needed to pay him a visit when I’m on guard.’” He continued, almost as if he didn’t care whether anyone answered him or not.

Because Filth was so catatonic, Nott found herself listening for him, half wishing that she could be anywhere else but here. Her human might be oblivious, but she certainly wasn’t. And every little nerve in Nott’s body was prickling with danger.

“I was gonna wait till I’m on guard, because I can get into that cell, and then it’ll be just you and me, and I’ll have all the time in the world to beat the shit out of you.” He said it so casually, it made the hairs on the back of Nott’s neck stand up. “And because I’m on guard duty, I even have the keys. See?”

He dangled the keys in the empty air, and Nott’s eyes fixed on their dangerous glint. This human was a monster. Sometimes Nott had to wonder how humans could hate her so much, while still tolerating ugly men like this.

“So lemme just unlock this door here, and we’ll have a nice long talk. Just you and me.” The human sauntered up to the cell door, unlocking it with typical human clumsiness. Until at last, he managed to unlock the door, and the heavy thump of his boots became muffled in the brown straw.

The intrusion made Nott’s heartbeat flutter, and the curled herself up to be as small as possible. Everything about the human’s presence felt wrong, turning all the safe corners of her haven jagged and twisted. Having the shelter of her prison disturbed made Nott shake with panic.

For all his casualness, the human moved with swift efficiency. He reached down to seize Filth by the shoulders of his baggy coat, dragging him up with little effort. Filth let out a feeble protest, one hand clawing out to shove his attacker away. But it was clear by now how weakened Filth truly was. He could hardly lift his own hand, let alone ward off an attacker, and the attempt did nothing more than make the ugly human laugh.

“Piece of shit, you’re so fucking weak.” The human snarled, as if somehow that weakness infuriated him more than anything else. His face looked like a mask by now, turned into something else made of hate. And underneath it all, behind the hate, a twist of fear. He didn’t just hate Filth, he was afraid of Filth too.

By now Nott was thrumming with indecision. She needed to do something, or else Filth was going to be beaten to death, just for being less than his race wanted him to be. And Nott had said she didn’t care. She knew she shouldn’t. But that didn’t change the fact that she did, and she was tripping over herself to think of solutions. There must be something she could do. Some way to call for help.

But even if she did, who would bother to help a goblin?

Whether Nott would ever have come up with an answer, she never discovered, because one presented itself before she could decide. It was another human voice, shouting down the length of the dungeon.

“Marcus! Are you back there?”

The older human Marcus paused, gritting his teeth with clear frustration at the interruption.

“What the fuck do you want?” He shouted savagely back.

“Hey man, don’t get pissy with me, I’m just bringing word from higher up.” The voice said defensively. “I’m taking over your guard shift, they want you for something else.”

For that next half moment Nott was afraid Marcus was going to take out his savagery on Filth, witnesses be damned, his face was such a picture of fury. Then he suddenly relaxed, going dangerously calm.

“Alright,” he conceded to the phantom voice, “wait for me a moment.”

With an angry heave he threw Filth’s fragile form against the wall again, letting him drop in a heap against the straw. “I’ll be back,” he hissed, and spat at Filth again. “And if you’re not dead by then, I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

Turning to walk out of the cell he suddenly paused, eyes arrested by the tin plate that Nott had offered Filth earlier. He grinned, and bent down to gather it up.

“You don’t mind if I take this of course,” he said cheerfully. “You don’t seem hungry anyway.”

And with his disgustingly cheerful whistle still echoing through the jail cells, he locked the cell door, and walked off.

Nott cautiously watched him go, and waited for several minutes expecting him to come back. But finally she gathered her courage to creep from her safe corner, glancing fearfully around the confines of her own cell, as if Marcus’s presence had somehow changed it into a new and dangerous place. Finally she reached the other side.

Filth was still apparently vegetative, just slightly breathing. Shrinking with nervousness, Nott reached out to feel him. She had to check if he was broken. For a moment Filth responded, shying back from her touch like he had before, but his fear was of a much more feeble sort now and he couldn’t truly escape her. Weakly thrusting out his hand he conjured the ball of light again with a twitch of his fingers, but it quickly flicked and died.

Paying no attention to him, Nott assured herself of his well being. She could tell from the clumsy movements of Filth’s hands he was still trying to conjure a globe of fairy light. But his intent wasn’t met with any strength to carry out his desire, and he couldn’t form the light again. Nott didn’t mind.

Finally satisfied Nott planted herself in the straw a few feet away from Filth’s body, sitting between him and the cell door. She wasn’t sure if the gesture meant she was guarding him or not, and if she was guarding him what she would do if he was attacked again. But sitting close by seemed nicer than lurking off in a distant corner.

Nott liked this better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah Filth really isn’t doing to hot rn, like at all. You know someone’s in bad shape when they can’t even concentrate on a Cantrip.


	4. Just a Little Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with a chug chug the Pain Train reaches full steam. Enjoy your happy tears and bitter laughter everybody! I’m sorry.

Nott woke up to the sound of Filth crying in his sleep.

It was a different softer sound than the nightmares, but it almost made Nott feel worse. He sounded young, far too young for his size, like a little child trapped inside something older.

Scrabbling to her feet, Nott pattered across the straw to go and check on Filth. Maybe he needed to wake up again. He was curled up when she got close, and shaking in his sleep, so that she could visibly see him trembling. He looked broken and hurting, even from a distance

For a moment she hovered over his face, frozen by fearful indecision. Then finally she screwed herself up to the point, and reached out to touch him. It made her feel warm and kind of fuzzy, when she finally touched his hair. It was like stroking his face again, but much better. The feeling made her hum, and run her fingers more confidently through his hair, realizing that she liked it.

Underneath she could feel the heat of his body, radiating feverishly warm into the air around him. The petting didn’t wake him, and Nott could feel his shaking through her hands. With a tiny hum she smoothed his hair out of the way, brushing back the tangled fringe that had a tendency to fall in his face, and she laid her tiny palm on his much larger cheek.

Filth blinked awake as she stroked him, still hazy and half asleep, and for a moment Nott was afraid he would be frightened of her. But strangely he didn’t panic at all. Instead his blue eyes, pale and almost colorless as if all the vibrancy had been leached out of them, fixed on her face. Then he _smiled_ , too wide, all out of place and wrong in their dark surroundings. The expression was unlike anything she’d ever seen in him, lighting up his hollow pale ghost of a face. And for that one moment he suddenly looked years younger.

He whispered “ _Mutter_ …” in a cracked and broken mumble, and shakily reached out toward her, pulling her closer. The strength of his arm trembled like a reed, and the weakness of it frightened of her, deeper still it made her angry. Angry at all the twisted reality that had taken so much out of him.

He was so _feeble_ Nott had to help him hold her, pulling his head into her lap so he wouldn’t loose her. Filth liked that too, and pressed his face into her stomach, wrapping his arm around her back to trap her there. And pulled this close Nott shuddered with dismay to feel how fragile Filth really was. The strength of his body pulled as thin as china glass, so that the slightest touch could brake it, like he was half insubstantial already.

As Nott gathered him in close, he mumbled, “ _ich habe dich vermisst_.” The words were muffled against her stomach, a thing she barely caught, and there was so much unvoiced pain behind those words they made her eyes sting. Then she felt him shudder in her lap, and he started to cry again, clinging to her tiny form as if her little body was the only anchor he had left.

But for once it felt like Nott knew exactly what to do, so she just shushed him, and stroked his face, and let him cry until he’d tired himself out. It didn’t take him long. He was so frail, so worn out and fragile, the strength of his body drained away almost immediately. He soon dropped into an exhausted stupor, limp and nerveless in her lap, as his breathing smoothed out and turned sleep heavy.

Even then, the coil of Filth’s arm wouldn’t let her go again. But Nott didn’t mind, his hair felt soft, and his face felt warm, and this was better than wordless screaming. She liked Filth, and his weakness didn’t frighten her. He was just a little boy it seemed, underneath all the pain, and Nott knew how to help little frightened things.

He didn’t dream that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be one chapter, but it was getting too long, so I split it in half and posted this, which is why it’s a little short. The next update will be along sooner than usual, since I’m already over half way done with it. 
> 
> Just thought I’d let you Beauties know.


	5. It Was a Close Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s the update I promised! Hooray! Because you’re such a lovely reader, I rushed it just for you. ;)

Nott took matters into her own hands next morning. Filth needed help, he needed to eat, and he couldn’t do it for himself. That much was clear. He was barely strong enough to hold himself together.

The food came just as day broke, and Nott blinked awake, slumped over Filth’s head in her lap. She’d been drooling in her sleep, and dirty red hair was stuck to her cheek, tugging apart when she sat up. Smacking her lips, and blinking drowsily, Nott examined their current situation.

Filth hadn’t moved away from where she’d placed him, if anything he’d drawn closer to her. His face was pressed into her stomach, he still had one fleshless arm curled around her torso, and the rest of his body had curled in closer too, until she was bracketed by his knees from behind. It turned Nott into the center of a roughly donut shaped puppy pile, that was both very close, and extremely cozy.

Nott didn’t know why it made her feel so happy, but it was a warm fuzzy feeling that made everything seem a little brighter in the cell.

The food had been brought by the younger human again, but he hadn’t retreated yet. Instead he was standing frozen outside the jail cell, apparently dumbfounded, staring wide eyed at Nott with Filth curled up in her lap. He was intruding, and Nott didn’t like it, so she hissed. It was threatening, and possessive, once again displaying most of her teeth, as she gripped protectively around Filth’s head in her lap. The human had a very positive reaction, jumping back with fright, before he quickly hurried away. Nott glowed with satisfaction.

Now, Nott could smell the food from a distance, and it was high time to make Filth eat something.

As soon as she tried to disengage herself Filth protested with a most pitiful whimper, and his arm tried to hold her down. But by this time he was so feeble and delirious, even Nott could overpower him, and she extracted herself. The absence made him wilt like a flower gone days without water, groping blindly in the straw, before slumping deeper into his depressed stupor.

With renewed freedom Nott discover another obstacle, as she stumbled and immediately fell face first in the straw, when she tried to move. After sitting with Filth’s head in her lap all night long, both of her legs were dead asleep from supporting his weight. She couldn’t even feel them, and certainly couldn’t move them, so she precariously scooted through the straw, dragging her tingling legs behind her.

It was gruel again, and the same cup of water, which Nott quickly retrieved. Setting them by Filth’s head, she planted her hands against his shoulder and shoved hard, trying to turn him over. He was still absurdly larger than her, but she managed it, turning him on his back. This done, she picked up the tin plate, and straddled his chest.

Now for the insurmountable task. How to make a human eat against their will. Filth had been starving himself for days, and Nott wasn’t at all confident that she could truly overpower him in that goal, if he chose to resist her. But she was going to try, which was a thing she’d never attempted before, in all her nervous lifetime. So the prospect was making her a little jittery.

Leaning forward Nott tried to open his mouth, noticing as she did that his lips were extremely chapped. For a moment she was tempted to pick at it, struggling against the desire to rip off the dead skin, purely for the satisfaction of doing so. But she managed to resist and got Filth to open his mouth.

That was a good sign, and Nott felt briefly encouraged. In a way, she was starting to sense that Filth was less actively intent on his own self harm, and more passively allowing it to occur. Which meant that if she forced him to act, he didn’t try to resist her. That was nice, Nott wasn’t strong enough to really force a human to do anything.

  
All this briefly passed through her mind, buoying her up with a flush of encouragement, but she was distracted before she could get any further. There was the problem of utensils to deal with, because she couldn’t just dump the food into his mouth, but Filth clearly couldn’t get any of it for himself. For a moment Nott contemplated how dangerous it would be to use her fingers, and if she did whether Filth would try to bite them off.

Filth distracted her at that moment, trying shakily to reach for her face. Instinct made Nott squeak and pull away from the intrusion, and Filth’s energy carried him no farther than a brief feeble effort before he was forced to give up again. It was a relief, but afterward Nott almost wished she hadn’t pulled back, because part of her harbored a lingering curiosity about what Filth had been trying to do.

Finally Nott decided that fingers would have to do. She had to make Filth eat somehow, and her hands would just have to take the risk. It wasn’t like the weakened human could realistically bite her very hard anyway. Scooping up a handful of bland gruel, she leaned forward and tried as carefully as possible, to put it in Filth’s mouth. She managed it, though she ended up needing both hands to scrape the sticky meal off her palm and into Filth’s mouth.

But that was as far as she got before she ran into difficulties. She could get Filth to close his mouth again, but he didn’t chew, and he couldn’t, or wouldn’t swallow. She tried unsuccessfully to work his jaw for him, but he just absentmindedly batted her hand away. And as for getting him to swallow his food, Nott was completely at a loss.

Part of her had been hoping that once Filth had something in his mouth, his natural instincts would take over, and he would do this part on his own. That little theory disproved, Nott was adrift. For a moment she was confused, then with a sudden flash of insight, she noticed his dry peeling lips again. That had to mean something. Carefully she reached forward to pry his mouth open, and poke his tongue with a finger, making a cautious investigation. The inside of his mouth was dry, and his tongue was swollen, which made Nott suddenly realize the danger.

She hadn’t seen him drink a single drop in _four days_.

Of course he didn’t have to piss, and certainly he could hardly eat. He was nearly dried out to a crisp. And that was frightening because Nott knew how fast creatures dried out. Even Goblins, (whom Nott normally considered much tougher than humans), could die of dehydration alarmingly quickly. Food wasn’t the core problem, it was dehydration that would kill him first.

Shaking a little, and struggling with the paranoid nervousness that Filth was going to die within seconds, Nott seized the water cup and tried to tip a little into Filth’s mouth. It was the first strong reaction he’s had toward anything in days. He groaned, and made a vehement effort to chase after the cup, which made Nott nearly spill it all. There wasn’t as much as she would like, and she couldn’t afford to waste any, so she pulled the cup away and unceremoniously shoved Filth’s head back into the straw. He still struggled, but finally he relented.

Then with infinite care, Nott began to feed it to him. It was slow going, partly because she had to be so careful, and partly because Filth couldn’t take more than small mouthfuls before he threatened to loose some of it. So she could only give him little gulps at a time, struggling the rest of the time to keep him still, because about this at least Filth was dangerously eager. But finally he seemed to register that Nott wasn’t going to feed him any faster or slower than she wanted to, and all he could do was submit, so he finally caved and lay still.

And bit by bit Nott managed to safely feed it all to him, without spilling any.

It wasn’t nearly as much as Nott wished to give him, but she didn’t have any more, and it was still more than he’d had in days. So hopefully that would be enough to sustain him. The knowledge that Filth had almost died in her jail cell still made Nott shaky and paranoid. She hated to think what might have happened if she’d waited to help, even one day might have been to late, and Nott shuddered at the thought of waking up to a dead body. A painfully close call really. Nott shivered, and pushed it from her mind, because it was an upsetting prospect to think about.

Food came next, and Nott threw herself into the task with enthusiasm, driven by the urgent need to take care of her charge. But this time he took it with more grace. The water seemed to be doing the trick, because Filth already looked more present with his surroundings, and also finally seemed to be aware that she was putting things in his mouth.

It was a messy process. Nott’s hands were sticky with gruel by the time he’d finished, but if Filth was slow to eat, he at least appeared to be functioning at last. Nott would drop handfuls into Filth’s mouth, and he would slowly eat it like a good boy, all the slower because he seemed so unaccustomed to doing anything with his mouth. But the gruel made an easy thing to swallow, and Nott made him eat it until she’d scraped out the tin plate.

Once it was over, Nott sat back, and glowed with pride. It had seemed like an insurmountable task at the start, but she’d actually managed to make Filth take both food and water. The achievement made her almost feel smug. She’d actually managed to do a job without messing it all up, and that was encouraging, because Nott was used to failure.

For a moment she wasn’t quite sure what to do next, but Filth unexpectedly decided for her. Before she could protest, his arm coiled around her shoulders again, dragging her down to lie flat on his chest. The sudden movement made her yelp in surprise, and she huddled stiffly, old habit making her nervous.

Then the warm solidity of Filth’s body underneath her filtered into her brain, and it made her shiver to realize how frighteningly pleasant the close proximity was.

Nott had never tried any experience remotely like cuddling, and she found it almost dangerously enjoyable now, threatening to bypass all her guardedness, and leave her disgustingly incautious. The rhythm of his breathing rocked her up and down, where she was perched on his chest, a slow steady beat that Nott found a little addictive. It kept lulling her into a sleepy daze, before she realized that she had lost focus and pinched herself to wake up and stay alert. But finally, inevitably, before Nott really knew it, she relaxed into sleep in spite of herself.

Anxiety and danger could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there’s the latest on the Pain Train, but things are getting better, I promise. I hope you all enjoyed, and I would dearly love to hear your thoughts.


	6. Hello Somebody

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update for all you lovely readers. Please enjoy.

When Nott finally stirred awake, it was obviously hours later. The sunlight slanting into the dungeon through a narrow crevice in the wall was yellow, tinted gold with sunset vividness. She felt warm, cozy and lethargic, as contented as a very relaxed cat. Filth was breathing slow and even underneath her, the steady rhythm reassuring her of his wellbeing, and one arm was limply slung over her shoulders.

From this position she could see the several days scruff of reddish hair on the underside of his chin, a tiny bit of his nose, and one smudge of dirt on the tip of it. Propping her elbows against his chest, Nott scooted up a little bit to get a better look at his face. She came to the conclusion that she liked Filth’s face when he was sleeping. He looked contented at the moment, relaxed, undisturbed by pains or nightly fears. The exploration made her discover that his eyelashes also appeared to be red, which wasn’t something she’d thought possible until now, and Nott leaned close to look at it. She also realized that his scruffy facial hair had thickened over the last few days, making him look even more rugged and unkempt, but Nott didn’t mind the mess. It just made him look even more like a Filth.

But underneath it all, Filth worried Nott. Beneath the hair on his face, or the color of his eyelashes, beneath his distinctive smell, and the crusts of mud on his clothes. Her examination revealed _Want_. His cheeks were too hollow, the bones standing out sharp and noticeable, his eyes were sunken and had heavy bags underneath. The tendons of his throat where it was exposed by his coat collar, stood out sharp and ropey, pulled taut against no softening flesh. The arm resting over her shoulders was fragile, all exposed bone that was breakable as twigs. And when Nott felt Filth’s chest underneath her body, she could easily pick out the shape of every one of his ribs, the cage of bone exposed sharp and rigid. He was all one mass of sharply protruding angles, jutting out under skin pulled too tight over his frame, with no softening muscle in-between.

Filth was painfully, heartbreakingly, terrifyingly thin.

She needed to fatten him up before he wasted away entirely. Hardening her resolve Nott sat up, brushing off the weight of Filth’s arm over her shoulder. It was time to feed him again. The other humans wouldn’t be delivering more food until tomorrow, but with things as they were, Nott couldn’t wait that long. Luckily however, she’d been saving up victuals for just such a day as this.

Nott quietly left Filth in the straw, and went to retrieve the rations from the little store on her side of the cell. Her search made her discover that the gruel had become a bit moldy and the leftover bread was stale, but also that she needed something to carry it all with. That meant a trip back to Filth, in order to retrieve the empty tin plate, and she carefully transferred her store over to the dish. Pattering back across the cell, Nott set the food down, and went to wake Filth up.

She’d made so little noise that he was still fast asleep, lying just as she’d left him, and still breathing evenly. Carefully Nott reached out and tapped Filth’s shoulder, in a shrinking endeavor to rouse him. But Filth’s sleep seemed to be a deep one, and the gentle touch inspired no response at all, as he continued to drowse peacefully. She tried shaking him next, latching both hands into his collar, and jostling his coat back and forth. That made him groan, and she saw his brow knit together in a frown, but he had yet to open his eyes, so Nott continued on. Biting her lower lip, Nott leaned over his face and poked his cheek with a finger, reaching up to peel one of his eyelids back so she could see the blue of his iris. Filth grumbled and blearily opened his eyes, coming back to consciousness with Nott leaning attentively over him.

And then the intimacy of the moment violently shattered.

Filth’s eyes widened, he bolted upright with a sharp exclamation of panic, and slashed out a blow at her face. With a yelp Nott ducked out of the way as he struck at her, just barely avoiding the unexpected movement, and she scrabbled fearfully backwards. Breathing rapid and panicked Filth backed up into the corner, shielding himself against the angle, and bringing up his knees like a barrier between them. Nott curled up tight in the straw, slinking anxiously backward, startled and hurt.

Clearly he didn’t remember her kind behavior.

They were at a stalemate for several moments. Filth stared at her wide eyed, and Nott crouched in the straw fighting the urge to bare her teeth, neither of them brave enough to approach the other. Then Filth softened again, slight but perceptible. The fear still coiled through his shoulders, making him look stiff and wooden, but he seemed more friendly, as if he wanted to tame her.

Filth gave a hesitant smile, and held out his hand, trying to look friendly. It was a strange expression on his face. The first time he’d smiled at Nott, the expression had been radiant, an unconscious movement. It had been something warm and thoughtless, that suddenly made years fall from his face.

 _This_ smile on the other hand, made him look _older_. It was stiff and out of place, like his face didn’t want to make the movements it took to smile. As if his smile was a rusty tool he’d long forgotten how to use, and was clumsy with now. It was a faded piece of clothing, worn down to rags, ready to crumble away to dust. Hardly a shadow of the thing it used to be.

His hand was still weak and shaky too, trembling with the effort of reaching towards her. Nott only crouched out of reach, back on her guard again, with all her nervous instincts back in control. For a moment they were still again, before Filth leaned forward, crowding into Nott’s space. Nott hissed again, and backed further away, intentionally showing all her teeth now.

Filth gave up the attempt to get close, and for a moment he just stared at her. Then he grinned that broken, out of practice smirk again, and backed away. It made Nott relax in spite of herself as soon as he did, still watching warily but less adamantly on guard.

Slowly, moving with a care that Nott rarely saw in humans, he sank back down onto his side in the straw. He curled up on the ground, small and unthreatening, making Nott drop her guard that little bit further. Then he hummed, and laid his arm out across the ground in her direction, palm curled limply upward. And he settled like that.

A long moment passed in which Nott only watched him, crouched stiff and cautious, struggling to gauge the danger. But Filth’s relaxation was so reassuring, Nott couldn’t help but uncoil just a little, as he seemed so disinterested. And in a position on the ground like that, he couldn’t easily pounce on her. The quiet was calming, and Nott’s nerves began to settle again.

In that long moment Filth’s eyes slipped closed, and Nott watched him fixedly. Waiting for the catch, the attack, but it never came. He was just lounging again, with his hand extended out over the straw, apparently asleep again. Nott’s stomach contorted into complicated shapes inside her, curling around the uncomfortable desire to be friendly again, and draw closer to this dangerous thing.

The mental struggle was fierce, but short lived, resolving sooner than Nott felt comfortable with. Chewing on her lip again, Nott took a cautious slinking step forward closer to Filth. Poised again for the trap, the reveal, the moment he was going to turn. But Filth didn’t react at all. One step, and then two, and then three, and then Nott was creeping forward with shrinking confidence.

When she reached Filth’s hand, he moved again. No sudden pounce, no attempt to snatch her, but his eyes drifted open. The blue intensity of them fixed on her face, no longer dazed and lethargic, or fevered and glassy. He was  _aware_ of her, eyes fixed on her face, but still not hostile.

For a moment Nott was frozen, trapped into stillness under the fixation of his gaze. He’d gone from apparently sleeping, to sharply awake in half a moment, suddenly far more alert than Nott had ever thought a person could be. But she was slowly regaining her comfort, instinctively aware that he wasn’t dangerous, and she took a cautious step past Filth’s hand.

As soon as she did it his fingers twitched, and he moved. Nott flinched, flighting the strong urge to back away again, but Filth’s hand stilled as she jumped. Silence reigned for a moment, but after hovering for a moment Filth’s hand stirred again, lifting towards her. Poised and on guard, Nott watched him carefully. Filth was moving slowly now, and it was never enough to shatter her nerve, drifting gently up towards her face. He paused whenever her discomfort began to mount, edging carefully towards her, as if he were waiting for her to back away. But she never could quite bring herself to do it.

Until finally, without a word exchanged between them, Filth’s hand had reached her face, and the weight of his palm settled gently on top of her head. The touch sent a happy shiver down the whole length of her body, banishing fear before she could think clearly enough to try and hold onto it. She could feel the warmth of his hand against her hair, pressing firm and grounding against her body, as if she were weightless and he was holding her down.

The intimacy was making Nott’s head buzz, thoughts turning summersaults inside her head, as she crouched frozen underneath Filth’s hand. Filth’s mouth curled into his faded threadbare shadow of a smile, but Nott could see the warmth in it now, as if she’d suddenly understood how to distinguish the bright thing his smile used to be, inside the worn out rags it had become. It was nice, and she couldn’t keep herself from smiling back. But the toothy leer didn’t seem to repulse Filth either, as if he’d learned to see through the ugliness of her grimace, to the tender impulse hiding behind it.

“Hi...” Nott said, her voice a little rasping and breathless, still crouching frozen with Filth’s hand on her head.

“ _Hallo_ ,” he whispered back, “little goblin.”

Filth’s voice was just as neglected as the rest of him, pale and colorless from lack of air and use, as if it had been stuffed in a dark corner for far too long. Nott could hear pain in words, she’d listened to pain long enough, and there was pain behind that voice. The pain was so clear, it was if his voice was wearing the hurting on its sleeve. And hearing pain made Nott feel pain, made her chest hurt with something sharp and protective.

“My name’s Nott.” Nott said, and there was no nervous trip in her voice now.

She reached up with both hands, slow but steady, grabbing for Filth’s hand. Until her grip found his, and her fingers grasped around his thumb and pinky, holding the weight of his hand down, in the same way she used to hold broad leaves on her head to protect it from rain. And Filth didn’t flinch away from the contact, allowing himself to be held.

“My name—” Filth began but didn’t finish, voice heavy with reticence, as if he were trying out the words on his tongue, testing the weight of them, and his eyes glittered with long held hurt again. “...My name is Caleb.”

“Hi—” Nott muttered shyly, dancing hesitantly before the name, “—Caleb.”

As soon as she said it she smiled broadly, happily showing the jagged points of her teeth. Because here at last was the name that fit, sitting snug and perfect. Filth didn’t fit. It was only _what_ he was, not _who_ he was. Caleb. His name was Caleb.

Caleb laughed at the sound of his name on her tongue, but there was a wet hitch at the end of it. “ _Hallo_ ,” he said again, “Nott.”

Nott’s heart gave a little jump at the sound of her name. So few had ever bothered to call her by anything personal, certainly no human had ever done so, and especially not with Caleb’s tone of melancholy but tangible friendliness. It was an experience that made her suddenly flush dark green, feeling self conscious but gratified.

“Hi...” Nott mumbled again, because she was clumsy with words, and couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Filthy Caleb didn’t seem to mind though. He just looked at her, and though he didn’t smile, his eyes looked warm. On top of her head, his fingers shifted, scratching her gently. It felt really nice. Nobody had ever taken the time to pet Nott before, and it made her hum contentedly, something not unlike a purr.

She really liked Caleb.

But the longer she sat with Caleb scratching her, the more his weakness began to infringe back upon her notice. How thin his wrist was, the slight tremble of effort she could feel as he continued to hold his arm out towards her, and more than anything the bony fleshless feeling of his fingers in her hands. He didn’t seem aware of his own fragility, made indifferent to his own needs by force of habit, but Nott was sharply aware of it, instinctively aware of how little meat was on his bones.

“Hey Caleb—“ Nott faltered, a little of her old nerves creeping back in, but she forced herself to soldier on. “You haven’t eaten very much...”

He hummed in agreement, but it was absentminded and dismissive. There was no energy behind the sound, no real passion or intention, just the force of habit that made him respond. He didn’t really seem to care. The hand on her head didn’t make any effort to draw away, and he seemed largely indifferent to her question, more intent on the movement of his hand than he was paying attention to her words. So it seemed that Caleb was still lost in apathy.

Which meant Nott would have to make the effort for him.

“You’re really skinny, Caleb.” Nott declared baldly, frowning at the listless man before her.

Having her responsibility marked out made Nott bolder, the outline of her job clearly defined. She knew what she needed to do, and how to do it. With Nott it was always the unknowns that scared her, the empty spaces her imagination filled, the shadows where only questions lurked. Things like this, where she knew what the problem was, and still more how to fix it, were easier to face. She had all the control here, and that was comforting.

As soon as her decision was made, Nott brushed Caleb’s hand off her head, returning to business. The gesture made Caleb hum with disappointment, and his demeanor darkened, growing more gloomy and distant as soon as the contact was broken. He was a fragile thing, quick to loose his cheer, and inevitably sink back into the static distress that oppressed him. But Nott fully intended to break him out again, so she let him sag momentarily.

Slipping away from Caleb’s hand, Nott retrieved the food she’d gathered together in order to feed him, speedily bringing it back. He’d need cheering up of course, but first he needed food. That Nott was sure of. So she set the plate down, and began to tug at Caleb’s coat collar, trying to shift him from his heap in the straw.

“Come on,” she snapped, after this attempt inevitably proved fruitless, and she poked Caleb in the chest again. “Sit up.”

He groaned, but he did it. And Nott thought he looked better sitting straight than lying in a heap, he looked more lively, more aware of his surroundings. This was better. Contented with Caleb’s new position, Nott retrieved her food supply.

Holding her plate in one hand, Nott used the other to crawl up into Caleb’s lap, holding onto the lapel of his baggy coat. Until she’d managed to find a good position, with her feet balanced on Caleb’s crossed knees, and she felt steady enough to let go. Standing on Caleb’s legs she could easily look up into Caleb’s face, and feed him if she wanted. Which was her intention.

Balancing a little precariously, Nott set her plate down on Caleb’s knee, then grabbed the chunk of bread and straightened. She tore off the biggest piece she could hold, though it was still actually quite small in comparison with Caleb’s greater size, and reached up to press it against Caleb’s mouth, waiting for him to eat it. The gesture actually made him laugh, the sound clumsy and halting, but it was unmistakeable, thrumming through Nott’s body. And after that hesitant mirth, he obediently ate the bread.

“There we go,” Nott said as he chewed, feeling a little coil of pride run through her chest again. This was the second time she’d actually managed to make Caleb eat something. She felt smug enough for it to be some kind of miracle.

Emboldened by her success, Nott tore away and offered him another piece. Again Caleb took it, but as he did his face suddenly twisted, like he’d realized something painful, and the laughter drained away as quickly as it had appeared. Nott watched his face, still mechanically feeding him, and felt the sharp protective pain tug at her again. He was so weak, so fragile, his joy was breakable as glass.

And in its place the Hurt was always so quick to come back.

Finally the bread was gone, and even without asking Nott could tell, he wouldn’t eat any more. It itched, because her protective instinct was still so sharp it burned to let him be hungry, but she knew the bread would have to do. She’d pushed him as far as he was willing to go.

She wasn’t going to leave him alone however, that much Nott was sure of. So she absently pushed the rest of the food away, and returned to crawl back into Caleb’s lap. Then she settled, finding a comfortable hollow, and silently curling up there. She didn’t say anything about it, didn’t ask for permission, and Caleb didn’t say anything or make an objection. Nott just felt the heavy weight of Caleb’s hands pulling her in closer, wordlessly taking comfort in the close proximity, and she smiled to herself.

“Thank you, Nott...” Caleb mumbled haltingly, and Nott grinned where she was curled up on his lap.

“Of course,” she rasped back.

“It’s been a long time...” Caleb whispered, and it was clearly for his own benefit now, a thought he unconsciously spoke aloud without meaning to. He was lost in his own inner world, and Nott’s presence was forgotten in it. “I haven’t had somebody feed me since I was only a very small _schlingel_...”

Quietly Nott uncurled enough to look up at his face above her. He was lost in contemplation, and under those phantom thoughts his face was a mask of pain. Nott’s heart ached again, squeezing tight enough to bleed, and she bit her lip with it. He was so burdened, it was like his distress was a physical thing. A demon quickly banished, and even more quickly returned, a torturer with a will of its own that he’d given up fighting.

But she hadn’t given up yet.

Wordlessly Nott reached for one of Caleb’s much larger hands, where it was rested on her shoulder. The touch made him flinch, startled almost imperceptibly, and she saw his eyes refocus, drifting back down to her face. Smiling in her best effort at comfort, Nott turned back over, and dragged his hand with her. Until she was curled up in a ball, with his hand held in both her own, cuddled against her chest. He didn’t pull away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tears. All the Tears. It’s finally all coming together, and I’m such a proud mama. Please share your thoughts and tell me what you enjoyed!


	7. Pretty Stupid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been looking forward to, but also dreading, writing this chapter. Because I knew it was gonna give my Feels a nice firm kick in the Butt. And it did. Wholey Dam, it did.
> 
> Or in other words, the Pain Train chuffs along, just as usual

In the few days that followed Nott started to understand her task very well. Coming to realize exactly what her care had to do. She could feed Caleb, and she could give him water to drink, but what she was really doing was forcing him to wake up. It was like that night full of screaming all over again.

Because Caleb wasn’t just sleeping with nightmares, he was living them.

He might not be asleep, he might not close his eyes, and he might not make any sound of distress. But the pain was just as real. Because all the darkness did was give a voice to the torture he silenced the rest of the time. When his mind was open, his inhibitions were loosed, and he couldn’t restrain himself like he did in waking hours.

But the tide of his thought was all too quick to drag him back into that darkened place. And the time of his waking hours was spent combating the same oppression, and inevitably giving into it. Crushed under that weight, Caleb was a little like a drowning man. He was fighting against himself, like he was trying to keep his head above water, and just like a man lost at sea, all the effort did was tire him out, the sooner to sink in the end.

And thus, Nott’s job in all this: to break that cycle. Just like she’d spent the night forcing Caleb to wake before he lost himself, she was doing the same thing now. It was less straightforward. But if she wanted to help Caleb, all her efforts had to reach for that end.

When she fed him she did it slowly, hoarding her rations throughout the day, so that she always had something to make him eat when he sagged. When he became quiet she’d say something innocuous until he was forced to listen to her. When he grew too still, she forced him to change his position. When he was lost in a daze she would play with his hair, pulling on it just enough to make him hurt, forcing him to remember where he was.

And always, always she gave him the comfort of her companionship to hold onto. Because she learned more quickly than anything else, that the living contact was a thing he needed, a thing he craved. Any kind of touch at all, on his hands, or his face, or his hair, had the power to recall him. And without that constant affirmation, that constant comfort, he was like a candle on the brink of going out. He needed to feel her presence, her closeness holding him together more than anything else.

So while Caleb might be older than her, larger than her, stronger than her, it was always Nott guiding him. In the greatest of all ironies, her tiny form was the support holding him up, her ungentle hands were the things to soothe him. Nott the Brave, the goblin that all the others used to throw rocks at, call a coward, a fuckup, a total failure, was the one tasked with taking care of this human.

Caleb was lost in the dark, and it was Nott of all people, pulling him back to the light.

That was confusing. But Nott decided she didn’t mind, because somehow it worked. For once she was actually good at something. It just turned out that the _something_ was being kind. It was nice, better than before, so Nott wasn’t going to complain. If Caleb needed someone to take care of him, Nott could make that her job, she would be happy to help.

This peaceful period lasted for three days, and though it was slow at first, Nott could tell it was having an effect. Every time she recalled Caleb back to the world it came a little easier, and every time he stayed bright a little longer, before his light started fading again. He talked a little more every day, he ate without Nott having to force him, he looked at the world in front of him instead of through it. Nott was patient. She could count each little victory as it came, and wait as long as she needed to for the next one.

Three days. They were interrupted before there could be a forth.

Nott had been napping at that moment, curled up in the little ball that Caleb could hold in his lap, as had become their custom over the last few days. The first warning she had was from Caleb himself. She’d become so attentive to him through all the tedious hours that even the slightest change caught her attention, so even in her sleep it didn’t escape her that he was growing stiff, brittle with fear. That made her blink awake, smacking her lips as she roused, ready to soothe him again.

The second warning was more alarming. It was one she recognized, and it raised her hackles, her aggression kindled against the source. A casual musical whistle making its way down the length of the dungeon walls.

So _he_ was prowling around again...human Marcus who was so ugly inside...

Nott only had just enough time for that realization to cross her brain, before Caleb roughly dragged her out of his lap, making her wriggle with confusion. Heaving her up, he shoved her away from him. She lost her balance falling face first in the straw, and turned over her shoulder to look at him, utterly mystified by this strange behavior.

“Shoo!” Caleb hissed, and he waved her back with a hand. “Go away!”

She didn’t feel like going though. She liked huddling up with Caleb more than being cold and alone, all by herself. Besides this, that human was coming back, so Nott needed to be close by in order to guard Caleb against the Ugly Marcus. Knowing this, she only brushed aside Caleb’s strange behavior, and tried to crawl back into his lap.

But Caleb, in a sudden surge of strength, seized her around the middle and threw her away from him as hard as he could. Nott was a small creature, she wasn’t heavy, and Caleb had been getting stronger with so much constant attention. The toss sent her flying haphazardly through the dungeon, until she came to a rolling stop in the straw. It wasn’t a rough landing, but the hostility behind Caleb’s gesture was far more hurtful, and Nott whimpered with frightened confusion.

Why didn’t Caleb like her anymore?

She glanced back at Caleb, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. Instead he’d huddled down in a ball again, curling up in the corner, and hiding his face behind his knees. He looked small, vulnerable, exposed, irritating Nott’s protective instincts more than ever. But he clearly didn’t want her help. His rough behavior had been just like any other angry, bitter, resentful human, as if he was just the same as the rest of them.

Then Marcus appeared outside the cell bars, and to Nott’s understanding it all became terribly clear. As she looked from one human to the other, taking in their similar features, she realized that they were the same race. Caleb was afraid, and he didn’t want another human to know that he was friends with a goblin. He cared more about his own race, and the opinions of his own kind, than he did about Nott. He would rather be respected by his own people, than stick up for her. Caleb was a human, Nott was a goblin. He wanted to be with his own people more than her.

Caleb didn’t want her.

The truth made Nott’s eyes sting, everything in the cell turning blurry, as she felt something sharp catch in her throat. Nott hid her face in the straw, letting her tangled strands of hair curtain in her face, and she slumped down defeated in the straw. She saw it all now, there was nothing left to do.

Really, she considered, it shouldn’t have been a surprise. And it shouldn’t hurt this much. Nott was used to never being wanted, she’d always been a failure anyway, so what was one more person’s opinion? But somehow she’d become intensely, painfully fond of Caleb, and his rejection stabbed her.

“You didn’t die it seems,” Marcus said, breaking the silence of the cell. “That’s just too bad...”

The whiff of malignant falseness in his regret was palpable. Nott wasn’t good with most people, but even she could tell that this man had hurtful intentions running through his heart. She knew his kind, she’d been raised with them after all, growing up in their presence all her life. Deep down inside this human had a goblin heart, he might look nice on the outside, but it was a goblin’s love of destruction and pain and power that lurked underneath. She’d been around enough torturers to know.

And Nott knew, there was nothing she could do. Caleb was just like every other human she’d ever met, and she knew there would be no changing him, that was for sure. But she found herself still listening intently for his response, waiting for the words, some proof that he was present. They never came. Caleb didn’t stir.

“Hey!” The human Marcus snapped viciously, kicking the cell bars with an echoing clang. “Answer me!”

Silently Nott begged Caleb to wake up, to just respond. Mean people didn’t like being ignored, it made them feel small, and insignificant. And in Nott’s personal experience there was nothing a bully hated more than being made weak. Didn’t Caleb know the longer he was silent, the more his attacker would hurt him to get his attention?

Silence.

Through the quiet Nott could hear the ugly human’s teeth grinding together. Then a jingle of metal, and the rusty sound of a key being pushed into the lock. Not good, this really wasn’t good, this really wasn’t good at all...

“If you won’t talk, I’ll just have to make you listen I guess.” Marcus said it so nonchalantly. Nott had no doubt what “making Caleb listen” would involve.

She could feel it the moment the big human entered the cell. It was like he brought a cloud of aggression and lurking danger in with him, filling the cell from end to end with the intense pressure of it. And with it Nott felt her panicked heartbeat kick up into a higher gear, tripping unsteadily like a humming bird, as the cell shrank down to something confining. It was all unknowns and shadows, Nott’s mind grasping for a way out, when really there wasn’t one.

“Come on, you’re acting so unfriendly,” Marcus taunted, nudging Caleb’s leg with a boot as he spoke. “I just want you to look at me...”

Caleb shied away from the boot as it nudged him, huddling up smaller in the corner where he was pinned. Nott was itching with discomfort, at Caleb’s clear vulnerability, but even more at the inevitably of it all. The scene playing out before her was like something fated, and all Nott could do was watch, while she struggled against the knowledge that she was completely powerless. Behind his knees Caleb mumbled something, maybe words, or maybe an unintelligible protest, but whatever it was neither Nott or Marcus could make it out.

“I couldn’t quite catch that...” Marcus growled, leaning closer to Caleb.

“I asked what the fuck you wanted.” Caleb repeated. And he was still huddled up in a little ball, as small and defensive as ever, but there was a sharp unfriendly edge to the tone. It made Nott’s heart thrill with the hope that there was still some energy left in her human friend, even if he wasn’t really her friend any longer. “I don’t even know you.”

Marcus laughed, a far too friendly sound. “Why don’t you come out of the corner, so I can hear you, and we’ll chat.” He said savagely, and reached for Caleb.

For a moment his movement looked effortless, as if Caleb weighed nothing, then Nott realized that Marcus wasn’t dragging Caleb to his feet. His fists were clenched into Caleb’s coat, but it was Caleb that was standing up on his own. But before Nott could really take this in, Caleb in the arc of his movement, had brought a clenched fist smashing into the side of Marcus’s jaw as he stood up. It made Nott flinch. Having received blows from human hands before, she was aware of how much that one must have hurt, but she couldn’t find it in herself to sympathize with the goblin hearted human.

Marcus just laughed.

Then in two movements he slammed his own fist into Caleb’s stomach, seized a handful of Caleb’s filthy hair, and dragged him down as a knee impacted a second time in the same place. Caleb choked, a drawn thready sound of pain, and made no resistance as Marcus shoved him back into a heap on the straw. He looked clearly defeated already.

Not good.

“That’s a _real_ punch, Filth.” Marcus snarled, and for one moment the true aggression was laid bare. He hardly looked human. Then it relaxed into the taunting triumph again, Marcus so cheerful and conversant because he knew the battle was over already, in this little drawn out scuffle it was already clear who held the advantage. “Just thought I should to show you, since you seem so inexperienced.”

Laughing Marcus kicked Caleb in the stomach again, the driving force behind it sickening in it’s strength, and Caleb whimpered. Nott’s body was thrumming with panic by now, making her thoughts run in incoherent circles, and she absentmindedly chewed on her claws, as her stomach did summersaults. This was not good, really not good. She had to do something, or Caleb was going to get truly hurt. If he wasn’t already.

But she couldn’t help. Caleb didn’t want her.

“You asked why I’m doing this, I think,” Marcus remarked to empty air, because Caleb clearly wasn’t listening. “The answer is, this isn’t really personal, I just need a punching bag.”

He grinned, and dragged his victim up again, driving his fist into Caleb’s face, with the crushing force of a rock instead of human flesh. “And you fucking shit bags just happen to be really convenient. Since deviants and traitors to the Empire like you should be punished, and I’m happy to oblige, so I kill two birds with one stone.” Marcus nudged Caleb’s shoulder with his foot, forcing Caleb to uncurl.

This was really, really, not good.

Not good, in fact really, really bad, with definite signs that it would get worse. But in the midst of it all Caleb started _laughing_. It was a joyless sound, a thing with no mirth or warmth, so empty it made your skin crawl. The timing was all warped and out of place, wildly at odds with person and place, like someone giggling when there wasn’t a joke. Caleb was laughing, but he sounded insane.

“Fuck the Empire.” Caleb spat.

Marcus didn’t have any words now. Nott could see them trying to form, pushing against his lips, but they turned into seething hatred instead. She could see the moment it happened, when everything twisted into one picture of fury on his face.

With a dull grunt of effort, he stomped down into Caleb’s stomach, putting all his weight behind it. The force of it made Caleb gag, and for a moment Nott thought he was going to throw up, before he curled up into a tighter ball on the ground. Another kick connected with the side of Caleb’s face, making Nott flinch with second hand pain. A third connected with Caleb’s arms, since they were shielding his stomach now. A forth, and a fifth, and there didn’t seem to be any sign that Marcus intended to stop.

This was turning truly ugly, and Nott was scrabbling for solutions. She didn’t want Caleb to die! There had to be something she could do. But she was a goblin, and nobody liked her, so even if she called for help no one would come. She was too panicked to think clearly, and all she knew was that this had to stop somehow, or her friend was going to be beaten to death. Even though they weren’t actually friends, and Caleb hated her because she was a goblin. He didn’t want her, but she was still trying to think of ways to help him. Then Marcus’s foot connected with Caleb’s stomach, her human coughed up blood, and Nott suddenly realized she didn’t care.

Caleb might not want her, but _she_ wanted _him_.

Nott launched herself in Marcus’s direction before she could give herself time to think about it, and Marcus roared as her sharp little claws gripped through the back of his shirt down into his skin. He lurched, but Nott kept her hold, scrabbling up the human’s back with all the tenacity of a very large cat, until she reached his shoulders and dug her claws in viciously hard. Snarling like a wild animal, Nott bared all her teeth, the jagged cavity gaping wide for half a second, then she snapped down on the meat of Marcus’s shoulder.

That made Marcus bellow just like an angry bull that Nott had bitten once, just to make it run around and smash things, and the sound made Nott feel a rush of brash confidence unlike anything she’d ever experience. It was almost dreamlike. For the first time in her short life Nott was actually running into danger instead of away from it, throwing caution to the wind and doing something stupid. She kind of liked it.

A rush of blood filled her mouth from the bite, the taste hot and irony, and Nott didn’t let go. She was acting purely on instinct now, following the voice of the spiteful little backstabber that lurked in the purely goblin part of her brain. It commanded, and Nott obeyed, sinking her teeth deeper into Marcus’s shoulder and starting to chew on him. Marcus snarled in annoyance, swaying on his feet, and grasping for her where she was latched onto his body. His much larger hands seized her around the waist, and Nott stubbornly dug in harder, her mouth anchoring into his skin.

But Marcus was regaining his balance. He was a human, much larger and stronger than her, and he tore her away from his shoulder with a heave. Nott gibbered incoherent hatred around the chunk of human she still had in her mouth and kicked, and for that one moment (if she could have seen herself) she actually looked rather comical. A tiny picture of fury dangling helpless in the air far above the ground, with scarlet smeared down her chin, and limbs splayed out in all four directions. She couldn’t see herself however, and Marcus was equally too enraged to notice.

With another angry bellow the human threw her at the ground, and this impact truly hurt, making Nott yelp with pain. Then, before she could reorient herself, Marcus kicked her, impacting solid and vicious with her lower chin and face, and she felt the true force of his boot like Caleb had. It was like being hit with a sledge hammer, all Nott could manage was a little squeak as the air in her lungs vanished, and the kick sent her skidding away across the cell until she tumbled in a heap.

Her face felt boiling warm, and her mouth filled with copper that was clearly her own blood, with several of her teeth knocked loose in it. It was like having the lower half of her face crushed in, all of it one broken piece. Nott shakily gathered herself, slobbering blood and saliva into the straw because her mouth was numb and she couldn’t command her jaw muscles, the flush of blind confidence knocked away. This was a crazy fight, she was probably going to die, and she’d been stupid to face a human head on. But even so she couldn’t think of running. Caleb still needed her.

Marcus seemed to feel that he could pause in his abuse of Caleb in order to properly punish the mad creature that had ripped a chunk of muscle out of his shoulder. It made Nott blanch as he moved in her direction, very aware of how much this was going to hurt, and how little she could do to stop it all. But her fight would give Caleb time to run away, and Nott resolved to draw it out as long as she could.

Might as well go out in a blaze of glory.

Then with a heave Caleb staggered to his feet. He looked as battered as Nott felt, one arm clutched over his stomach, swaying on his feet, with a tinge of blood staining his teeth. It made Nott’s stomach lurch with concern, silently begging him to just run, since he was so worn out there was obviously nothing he could do.

That lasted for half a moment before Nott took in the look on his face, and that made her shrink backwards in sudden fear, despite how weak he was. He looked _terrifying_. The empty, aimless, desolate shell had been ripped away, revealing something underneath that Nott cowered before. The gaunt angles of Caleb’s face looked like stone, like a skull. Out of that hollow face his eyes blazed, not hot and red, but scorching cold, blue like ice.

He flung his hand out, the same gesture that Nott had sensed so much danger in. Once again his skin blackened and flaked away, until his entire hand looked like charcoal, but this time he didn’t stop it. With chanted words that rocked the cell in its foundations, thrumming through every stone, he flicked of his wrist.

And a surge of heat was all the warning Nott had, before the fire leapt from Caleb’s hand, and the conjured flames ignited Marcus’s body. He screamed, a high pitched animal sound of agony, writing with the pain. He pitched forward, rolling blindly in the straw, and the flames curled up and vanished. They had left deep burns, charred and blistered, over his body, and he looked just barely alive.

“Get. Away. From. _Meine_. Little. Friend.” Caleb commanded, grinding out each word with savage emphasis, and heat waves still shivered around his hand. “Or I will kill you right now, I swear to _Gott_.”

Marcus glanced at Nott, still drooling blood, and coiled up tense on the floor.

“I will do it...” Caleb threatened coldly, the blackened edge creeping a little higher up his forearm. “I haf before.”

Nott could hear the brutal truth in that statement, the sterile straightforward plainness of Caleb’s words, and Marcus’s eyes widened, catching the naked honesty too. Wordlessly he rolled away from her, putting distance between them, just as Caleb commanded. Then he stilled, holding his hands up where Caleb could see them, and obviously doing his best not to give offense.

“Take your keys, and throw them over in that corner.” Caleb ordered, his free hand pointing at the alcove where he’d been huddling when Marcus came in. The stark difference between that Caleb, and the one they were witnessing now, was almost dizzying.

Without question, Marcus did it.

“Now get out.” Caleb said, his voice sharp and iron, while his eyes still blazed and his hand remained threateningly black. “Before I decide to burn you, till you’re an insignificant little pile of ash, just to amuse myself.”

Caleb smiled as he said it, and it was truly the cruelest expression Nott had ever seen any human wear, sharp with a whiff of genuine cheerfulness completely different from Marcus’s sham. As if he could spend years slowly burning Marcus to ash, from the feet upwards, and genuinely enjoy doing it.

“Fuck, ok! Ok! I’m going” Marcus babbled, struggling weakly to rise. He could barely stand, angry burns standing out all over his body, but he just managed it.

For a moment Caleb simply regarded him, then he growled “I really aught to kill you, but I won’t.” He gestured at the cell door. “Get out. Before I change my mind.”

Limping Marcus retreated from the cell, leaving the door ajar. And Nott felt a brief ruffle of satisfaction that there was no cheerful whistle echoing through the jail now. Finally he was gone, and for a moment there was nothing but aching silence left in his wake. Then Caleb flexed his hand, and the blackened charred skin flaked away and vanished, leaving his own skin unharmed behind.

He glanced down at Nott, and just as suddenly as his cruelty had appeared, it suddenly vanished. An expression of exhausted horror twisted his face, he stumbled like a drunken man on the verge of falling, and staggered forward to collapse on his knees next to her. Nott let out a sympathetic hum, and reached out to pat his face.

Caleb shuddered, the movement rippling through his whole body, and sobbed from the bottom of his chest, reaching out to pull Nott into him. His hands when they grasped her were shaking, and the rest of his body was trembling like a leaf, as he dragged her into a crushing hug against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he choked, shaking around her, and she felt one hand cup protectively over the back of her head. “Little friend, I’m so sorry.”

The word friend made Nott feel warm and cozy, even with the throbbing pain that was still her face. And she couldn’t think of anything to say, so she just reached up as high as her little arms could stretch, clasping around Caleb’s neck as best she could. Caleb just sobbed harder, and his arms tightened like a vice around her little body.

“ _So leid_...” Nott heard him whisper against her shoulder, and she could feel dampness starting to soak down to her skin. That wouldn’t do.

“It’s alright.” Nott said, as cheerfully as she could. “He probably deserved it.”

Speaking made her jaw ache, deep inside the bone, and become conscious of the rearranged state of her teeth. Though they weren’t so pretty to begin with. But the warm feeling still made her ignore it, and she reflected that she did indeed not mind. This was worth it.

“ _Ja_...” Caleb gave a little choking laugh. It was only a small, halting, hesitant thing. But she could sense the tiny seed of happiness in it, deep underneath the long disuse of the sound, and Nott took it for the tiny miracle it was.

“I don’t mind,” Nott reassured, “really Caleb.”

“That was really stupid.” Caleb declared, with the tiniest hint of that almost laugh still caught in his voice. Finally he released his choking grip on Nott, and sat back to look at her, hands clasped around her shoulders to hold her still. “I didn’t want you to get hurt, that’s why I pushed you away...but you came back...”

His hand reached up to linger over one cheek. It was probably covered in blood, and starting to swell, but Nott didn’t notice. She was too distracted by the tender glint in Caleb’s eyes, where they had been so icy before. And it was that softness more than anything else that made her truly believe: Caleb really did like her after all.

“Well, now he’ll think twice before taking on a goblin again.” Nott said, grinning wide enough to make her cheeks hurt. But she wanted Caleb to know she was ok, and be happy again, so she could deal with a little pain to achieve that.

“I think you taught him a sharp lesson.” Caleb said, rubbing the top of her head with his hand. “I don’t think he will forget it for a long time.”

Nott just chucked evilly, and tackled Caleb into a hug again. Caleb patted her back, and for a moment there was only companionable silence. Then he sighed, a slow wheezy sound, and tugged on a piece of her hair to get her attention.

“We should probably go.” He said quietly, as Nott sat back and looked up at his face. “That guard will be back, with others to punish us, and we can’t fight them all...”

She could see the sense in that.

So Nott climbed out of Caleb’s lap, and looked around at the cell. It was such a sheltered cozy place, all snug and predictable, far from the outside world and its chaos. Thinking about leaving it made her feel anxious and reluctant. But this place wasn’t good for Caleb, she wanted him to be happy, and he wouldn’t be happy here. And with that in mind, she pushed the reluctance away, and resolved to go. Caleb wasn’t safe here, and Nott wanted her human safe. She had to do what was best for him.

Caleb slowly climbed to his feet too, groaning as he stretched, and swaying on his feet. With a frown of concern Nott looked up at him, and it was long journey to find his face. He was so much smaller when curled up on the ground, Nott hadn’t realized until this moment how very big he actually was, towering above her with typical oversized human proportions. The pain written across his face made her reach up to tug his coat, trying to get his attention.

“D’you feel alright Caleb?” She queried anxiously, still hanging onto his coat, and frowning all the way up at him.

“Our friend was not very kind, I’ve had better days,” Caleb said absently. Then he looked down at her, and smiled sadly, taking one of the hands that was clinging to his coat and holding onto it. “But, I’ve also had much worse...”

It was a depressing statement, but Caleb didn’t seem aware of that, and Nott chose not to point it out. Caleb minimizing his own pain didn’t seem like anything new, and Nott could ignore it. She would notice the hurts for him, since he seemed so dismissive of himself, and obviously needed someone to care. He didn’t let go of her hand either, and that was something Nott did like, as he limped out of the cell.

Caleb was still taller than her, and holding her hand besides, but even so, he wasn’t really leading her. He seemed, for all his first urgency about leaving, to be walking in his own little world. And so it ended up being Nott, smaller, younger, but in the lead once again, taking the decisive direction toward freedom.

“I’ll need your help, to get my books on the way out.” Caleb remarked absently. “I believe they are locked up.”

“Sure,” Nott agreed, “no problem.”

She didn’t mind. She could take care of him.

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT INFO:
> 
> When I originally started this story, my vision ended here, and this was where I planned to complete the story.
> 
> But since I started I’ve already had inspiration for additional plot points, and continued updates. I’ve already got some drafts written up, and I’m planning to post them as Wednesday updates just as usual. But including them with my original story arc just didn’t fit right. 
> 
> So I’ve decided to end this fic here, and post my updates as seperate fics. But I’m going to group them all under one collection, so if you’re still interested in Nott and Caleb’s story as they set out on their travels together, I definitely would suggest that you bookmark or subscribe to the collection so you know when I update. Or you could check in every Wednesday to see if I’ve posted, if you don’t feel like doing that. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for the love, I’ve really enjoyed all your support, and I hope to see you visit my bonus fics. See you next week <3


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